


abandon

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Clone Wars, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Starting to actually talk about things, injuries, mentions of self-destructive tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: Anakin had no reason to be more reckless than usual, not anymore.Obi-Wan had seen to that.Or, Obi-Wan might have misinterpreted the reason for Anakin’s increasing recklessness.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 29
Kudos: 307





	abandon

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime during the Clone Wars.

Anakin’s presence was familiar and grounding beside him, even tightly controlled as it was. It stood in welcome counterpoint to the buffeting of the wind as the carrier skimmed in low over Cosya’s alpine surface.

There was a lurch in Obi-Wan’s stomach as he and Anakin launched themselves into the air at the droid army below, and it was almost possible to believe that things might play out as they had so many times over the course of the last year. They would strike and advance and _bleed_ , and Anakin would do something foolish and brave, and when he’d nearly died for the hundredth time, Obi-Wan would fuck him into near-oblivion from the relief and adrenaline that came in the wake of another near miss.

But Anakin had no reason to be more reckless than usual, not anymore.

Obi-Wan had seen to that.

\---

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin hovering just outside the door of the sick bay, a tense ball of energy not quite within his reach. He could almost taste Anakin’s fury, cold and hot all at once and laced through with anxiety and distress. Those last two bit deeper than the seething pain in his abdomen or the steady blaze in his head.

“You can come in, Anakin. I can sense you out there.” It wasn’t like Anakin ever seemed to need permission to do anything he wanted, no matter what it was, but then again, perhaps he didn’t wish to see Obi-Wan at all.

A moment’s hesitation, and then Anakin appeared in the doorway, his limbs tight and his shoulders drawn into tense knots. The dark lines of his tunics were stained and torn, rubbed raw from the armour he so often had to wear, and the gold of his curls was burnished by sweat.

But he was alive, and Obi-Wan would do what must be done to keep him so.

“I’m not going to try to crawl into your bed or anything,” Anakin snarled defensively as he took a few heated steps forward and stopped just an arm's length away. "So you don’t have to worry about it.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the anger and hurt layered into those words and shifted on the small, uncomfortable bed. Every movement brought pain, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it with their limited supply of bacta.

“Anakin.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Now I know.”

There was a rustle, and the click of boots on the floor, and Obi-Wan’s eyes opened to the sight of Anakin’s retreating back.

“ _Anakin_.”

Anakin stopped short. His name, in Obi-Wan’s voice and in that particular tone, had never failed to make him do anything less. For one terrible moment, Obi-Wan thought he would leave anyway, but then he very suddenly whirled around. The sight of it—the whiplash speed of it—made Obi-Wan’s head throb even harder.

“Pretty funny, though, wouldn’t you say, _Master_?” Anakin’s voice said that it was anything but. “You accused me of being so desperate for your dick that I’d risk compromising the mission. But you’re the one who ended up getting almost killed, this time. And now you won’t even get a good fuck out of it.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, as evenly as he could. “What I actually accused you of was risking your life.”

Force help them that to Obi-Wan, that was the worse of the two.

“Well, you’re not always right, Obi-Wan.”

It was a fact that Obi-Wan was all too aware of, but here and now, used in an attempt to deflect from Anakin’s own self-destructive tendencies, it made him see red. He breathed carefully— _in, out, hold_ —and finally spoke in a guarded voice.

“What am I supposed to think? You’ve grown progressively reckless in the past year. You take chances that shouldn’t be taken. You take risks that don’t have enough possible reward. You risk your life in wagers that _aren’t worth it_. What else can I conclude when your behaviour coincides almost exactly with when we started sleeping together?”

Anakin looked at him in stunned silence, and something about it drained Obi-Wan’s anger as if a wound had been lanced. He felt exhausted, worn down by the war and the blaster wound and the dull loss of heartbreak. His voice rang hollow in his own ears as he continued. “You do something reckless. You almost die. And in the rush and the adrenaline of the aftermath, we have sex. What could I do but try to end it?”

“I don’t know, maybe look in a mirror?”

Obi-Wan frowned, not entirely sure what to do with Anakin’s response.

A bleak laugh sounded abruptly between them, and Anakin’s eyes tightened in something close to misery. “Have you literally ever tried to kiss me or touch me like that any other time?”

The words, spoken as if Anakin were lost to the void of space, felt like blaster fire all over again. Obi-Wan thought he’d rather take the physical wound.

“Do you _want_ me to?” he asked incredulously. It had never even occurred to him that Anakin could possibly want such things from him outside of the fever and the abandon of war.

Anakin flinched, and that was the only answer Obi-Wan actually needed. Somehow, he managed to speak around the sudden block in his throat.

“Come here.”

Anakin moved forward slowly, almost hesitantly, and came to a stop just a few inches away from Obi-Wan’s bed. “You should rest,” he said uncertainly, almost fidgeting, as if not entirely convinced he should still be there. As if not entirely sure he should be allowed the cautious hope that was beginning to creep into his eyes.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said tiredly, and Anakin—who looked just about ready to speak again—snapped his mouth closed. “So should you. And there’s more than enough room for two in this bed.” There wasn’t, really, at least not comfortably, but Obi-Wan found that he couldn’t care less right now.

In the end, they made do. Obi-Wan managed to shuffle over, clearing just enough space for Anakin to curl around his frame. Anakin lay on one side, and if his flesh hand came up a little too tentatively to rest over Obi-Wan’s heart, as if to reassure himself it was still beating, Obi-Wan would find a way to undo any damage he had unwittingly done if it was the last thing he ever did.

The warmth of Anakin’s body after the madness of battle was almost enough to lull Obi-Wan straight to sleep, but there was something he had to know first.

“Can you honestly say it had nothing to do with it?”

Anakin’s silence was answer enough, but then Obi-Wan felt his voice stir the air between them. “I can’t say it _did_ , either. Force, this whole war’s a mess. I feel like I hardly know what’s even happening anymore, most days.”

Obi-Wan didn’t push any further. Now wasn’t the time, and he knew exactly what Anakin meant. He felt it day in and day out in the depths of his own bones.

“We’re going to talk in the morning.”

Anakin made an affirmative sound against Obi-Wan’s temple.

“Really talk, Anakin.”

“If you’ll let me stay, we can talk about whatever you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
